


I'll Be As Honest As You Let Me

by Lapin



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bofur is Nori's lucky charm, BotFA, Erebor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4724528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapin/pseuds/Lapin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Smaug has destroyed Lake-Town, Nori believes he's finally used up all of Bofur's luck. But he should know better than that by now.</p><p>The bastard is <em>always</em> somehow still lucky.</p><p>With accompanying <a href="http://asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com/post/128421727438/he-doesnt-know-if-he-wants-to-tell-the-whole">art</a> by <a href="asparklethatisblue.tumblr.com">Blue Sparkle</a>!</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be As Honest As You Let Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blue_Sparkle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/gifts).



> So, I was working on some commission stuff, saw this file and was like, "wait, what's this?". Turned out I had written and finished this awhile ago as a "get well soon" gift and completely forgotten about it. So let's just call it an early birthday present? Agh, I'm such a dork. Sorry. 
> 
> Title is from the Fall Out Boy song "Fourth of July", and wow, yeah, two in a row. Damn you Fall Out Boy, just when I think I'm out they pull me back in.

“Has he talked to you?” Nori looks out over the edge of the old balcony he found Dori on, his brother mending Nori's gloves. Down below they can see Ori, supposedly sorting through the gold, but Nori can see how often he stops and wipes at his face, the way his shoulders kept hitching. “He hasn't said anything to me.”

Dori shakes his head, not looking up from his work. “Not a word. Don't think he even knows what to think, much less say.” He sighs heavily. “We should never have let it get so far between them. Ori's too young. He was always too young.”

“We tried that, remember?” They'd forbidden Ori from so much as speaking to Fíli at one point. “He sneaked around with him and lied right to our faces. Which was impressive, mind you.” Nori had never even believed Ori was capable of lying to them, much less do it so blatantly. “We could have left Ered Luin and I think that stupid boy would have followed after us.”

“Don't,” Dori says quietly, firmly. “Don't speak of him like that. Not any more, and especially not where Ori might hear. The last thing we want is to drive him away from us.” That's not a bad point. “I don't know that he'll even be able to rally. He loved that boy so much, too much.”

Nori privately thinks some very cruel things about Fíli that are likely unfair, but he's not going to be too sorry for them. Fíli had been disrespectful of Dori and Nori and their place in the family. He'd come into their home uninvited even, sneaking into Ori's room like a petty thief. Nori should know, after all. Nori didn't like being disrespected, and he didn't like it when Dori was disrespected. 

But Ori wouldn't listen, because Ori was young and foolish and completely ensnared by Fíli. “He wasn't any good for Ori,” Nori insists, trying to understand why he feels so conflicted now, why he even cares. 

Maybe it's easier to keep hating Fíli rather than look too closely at what he's missing. 

“I'm not disagreeing,” Dori says, “Not really. But Ori loved him, and he loved Ori.” He finally looks up at Nori, and asks, “How is Bombur?” He pauses. “Bifur...he's not really up for talking right now.”

Nori shrugs, leaning against a pillar. “Hopeful, same as Glóin.” Nori isn't so naïve. Bofur is likely dead, by dragon fire. Or he drowned in the lake. He was never much of a swimmer. “He shouldn't have come. I convinced him to come, told him it'd be the making of him, and I -” His throat is getting tight. So he stops, looks up into the shadowed heights of Erebor. 

He had really believed he and Bofur would have a grand time. They always had a grand time when they were off together, even the times they ended up in jails or worse. He'd wanted Bofur to share in the promise of wealth, and really, things always worked better when he had his best friend at his back. Bofur was good luck.

Maybe Nori took too much of his luck, because Nori was alive and Bofur was a corpse on that cursed lake. And that was Nori's fault. 

“He should have stayed home,” Nori says, hating himself. Bofur had been like another brother to him, and Nori had led him to his death. “We all should have stayed home where we were safe. Look at us, what are we? Shopkeeper, poacher, scribe. Thief.” Because Bofur had an honest trade, that much was true, but so had Nori when he felt like it. They'd been thieves and poachers together, taught by Bifur. “We're not heroes.” 

Dori doesn't say anything to that, probably because he cannot argue with it, not really. They should have stayed home and safe. Ori was a talented enough scribe, trained up by Balin, and he was sweet. Once Fíli was gone from Ered Luin, he wouldn't have been short on potential suitors, and he would have forgotten Fíli, moved on. 

Everything would have been _fine_.

“There now, laddie,” they hear below, and Nori looks down again to see Dwalin wrapping an arm around Ori. “He wouldn't of wanted you to cry. He hated the sight of it.” Ori is small against Dwalin's body, shoulders shaking hard now. “We don't even know for sure he's lost. Wait before you think the worst.”

Ori doesn't say anything, still crying, and Nori can't stand it. Ori shouldn't cry, it isn't right. He's too young to cry like that, like his heart is broken. Nori always knew Fíli would break Ori's heart, he did. 

Dori is tense beside him, and to Nori's horror, he sees that his older brother is starting to cry himself. 

The world has gone mad, and Nori hates it all so much, he hates everything, and he cannot stand this place for one moment before, so he leaves, stalks off into the gloom to escape the sound of Ori's grief and Dori's guilt. He doesn't know where he's going, but he's always known how to find a path, find his way back. He doesn't need to think about it. 

He cannot control his own weeping once he's alone, the pressure too much, far too much, because his best friend is dead, and he should have told Thorin to wait. He should have made sure Bofur was up with the rest of them, not depended on everyone else to do it. He should have made Thorin wait. 

He wanted to see his stolen home so much. Too much. Nori had grown up on stories of Erebor, their mother's stories, Dori's memories, and Nori had wanted it so much. Maybe if he had Erebor, maybe if he was a hero, he could be respected. Their mother would forgive him his crimes, would love him again, Dori could hold his head high, and Ori would never learn to be ashamed of having such a brother as Nori.

He had wanted Erebor _so much_. 

Now, Nori wants to be back in Ered Luin, home safe with Dori braiding his hair, or meeting Bofur for a drink, or....he sits against the wall, listening to nothing, until finally the steps come. Far away at first, as he searches Nori out, then closer when he picks up the trail. Once he's beside Nori, Nori looks up at him, and tries to smile. “'Lo, Captain. Fancy meeting you here.” 

Dwalin could always track him down. 

He sits beside Nori, groaning a bit as he cracks his knuckles. “Dori said you ran off. Wanted me to check on you.” Thankfully, he doesn't try to touch Nori. Nori's not sure he can handle it. “Lad can't help who he loved, and I know you didn't approve, but you can't change his heart just because you don't like it.”

“Fíli was reckless and stupid,” Nori says, wishing Dwalin would take offence. He's not likely to be riled up by anything Nori says though, and now is no exception. He just sits there, breathing, like everything is fine. It's not, of course. 

But Dwalin had loved those boys, and Nori...Nori loves Dwalin, so now he rests his head on Dwalin's shoulder and lets him put his arm around Nori. “We don't know that they're dead,” Dwalin says, this time to Nori, his tone gentle. “I know you always believe the worst, but we don't know they didn't follow after us before Smaug came. Bofur at least would have. And even if they were there, there are survivors. They could be amongst them.” 

“We're not that lucky,” Nori replies, wishing he had some shred of hope in him. “We haven't had an ounce of luck this whole damned quest. It was doomed from the start, but we kept pushing, and now our chickens are home to roost.” 

“We're alive, and Smaug is dead.” 

“It wasn't worth it.” What's gold compared to loss? “I didn't hate Fíli, you know. I just thought he was a bad match for Ori.” 

Dwalin laughs, his voice loud and echoing in the dark hall. “That boy thinks the sun rises because Fíli tells it to. You never had a chance of separating them, and you know it.” He touches their temples together. “You hate that Ori loves like you do, with his whole heart.” Tenderly, too much so for the time, Dwalin drags his knuckles down Nori's cheek, past his beard and to Nori's neck, so that his hand might rest there. “Have I ever betrayed you, Nori?” Nori shakes his head, looking up at Dwalin, meeting his eyes and always, always that voice in the back of his head trying to find falsehood, even in Dwalin. There's still none there though, because there never is. “We love quieter, the line of Durin, but our love is fiercer than any others. Fíli loves him, just as I love you.” 

It feels wrong to kiss him now, to still be so in love when he should never be allowed to be happy again. Bofur is dead, and that's Nori's fault. Kíli and Óin are dead, and that's not his fault, but he didn't want them dead. 

Fíli is dead, and Ori, he loves like Nori. He loves hard and completely, and Nori knows if it was Dwalin dead from dragon-fire, he would never mend. Ori is too young to fade from a broken heart, but if Fíli is gone, he will, and Nori cannot do a thing about it. 

“He's too young to die,” Nori says aloud, and maybe he should have said _they're too young to die_ because he's not sure who he means. 

“Then hope.” 

Nori wants to, so very much. He wants to hope, but always that voice, reminding of who he is, what he is, and how his mother cried the first dozen times he was arrested. How she stopped crying, eventually, and soon, stopped coming to get him. He had shamed her, and she could not bear having him for a son, and he's sorry, he's so very sorry for it all, but Nori learned early that hoping was a waste of energy. Better to accept things, and move on. Better not to feel, not to love. 

But he loved Dori, because Dori was his brother, and Dori always came to get Nori from the cells when he had the money. Sometimes he hadn't had the money, and Nori had to see his elder brother on the other side of the bars with his long hair all down in loose braids, in his nice clothes, and Nori had never been able to ask how Dori degraded himself for Nori because he was so _ashamed_. And he loved Ori, because Ori was his brother, and Ori loved him so much. Then he'd loved Bofur, because Bofur was his brother too, in their way, and Bofur made everyone laugh, and never thought bad things about the world the way Nori did. 

Then Dwalin. Always Dwalin. Dwalin the young guard smirking when Nori tried to flirt his way out of being arrested, Dwalin who told Nori, _even you're not that pretty_ , Dwalin who played the viol so delicately, Dwalin who fell in love with Nori as Nori fell in love with him. 

“He'll fade,” Nori says aloud, and his voice cracks. “He's not even a hundred, and now he might not make it that long at all.” Because a Dwarf only loved this way the once, and to have it come so young was bad enough. Ori wasn't weathered enough to withstand the loss of his heart so early. “If it was you...if you went where I could not follow...”

“Don't talk like that,” Dwalin cuts him off. “Do not ever talk like that, Nori.” 

But Nori cannot stop now that the words have started, even if he feels the tears sliding down his face and the tightness in his throat. “When the reports started coming back from Azanulbizar, that so many were lost, that Thror was dead, Thráin dead, and Thorin was king...and I realised you would have been near them. But I thought maybe you were guarding Thorin and Frerin. Then we heard Frerin had fallen as well. And your father, and your mother. And Dori came home, but he could not remember seeing you, or your brother.” 

His breath against Nori's brow is warm, a comfort. “My Nori, I never realised...I was so happy to come home to you, I never even wondered at what you had been thinking.” 

Nori had never said either, because the moment he had seen Dwalin, head above the rest, his spiky crest of hair singling him out, he had spotted Nori as well, his bright red hair its own marker, and he had rushed forward through the crowd of soldiers, right to Nori, and to Nori's absolute shock, had fallen to his knees in front of Nori, as though he could no longer support his own weight. He'd wrapped his arms around Nori's waist and buried his face in Nori's stomach, not weeping, though his shoulders had shaken in dry sobs, and all Nori could do was tangle his fingers in Dwalin's hair and thank Mahal and bless Durin's name, because Dwalin had come back to him. 

“Fewer were coming back,” Nori keeps on, because he wants to talk, needs to, if only for something to do. “I stopped waiting, Dwalin.” 

He feels him tense beside Nori, but he does not move away. “You are...you've always been very beautiful. If I had died that day, I would not have wanted you to live in mourning.” 

“That's not what I meant.” He doesn't know if he wants to tell the whole truth; how every day he had spent longer and longer in bed, how he wanted to sleep away the rest of his life, how little food meant to him, how even the return of Dori hadn't made him as happy as it should have. “Without you, everything just felt so...faded.” 

But then Dori had burst into the room, and tugged Nori's hands into his: _“Nori, Thorin's party is coming back, and people are saying both of Fundin's sons are with him!”_

Dwalin sighs heavily against Nori now. “I promised I would come back to you. I swore it to you. If I had to slay every last Orc in that cursed ruin, I would have, if only to hold you again. But even with that...Nori, things are not exactly easy outside these walls. We might yet come to blows with the Men, or even the blasted Elves. If I fall, Nori, I would not see a fire that burns as bright as yours go out. Not for me.” 

“And if I fell?” He doesn't know why he asks. It's wrong to hurt Dwalin in such a away after what's happened, but he needs Dwalin to see. To know. “What would you do if I fell?” 

“I don't know,” Dwalin answers. “But I know my heart would never open again. The first day I saw you, Nori...”

“You said even I wasn't that pretty,” Nori teases. 

“I was lying,” Dwalin corrects, and Nori actually laughs, dry and not nearly as happy as it would be under other circumstances. “If it had been just me catching you, I'd of let you go. Every time.” His thumb finds Nori's cheekbone, and traces it. “Wasn't even how pretty you were. Was the way you laughed, the way you fought back. The way you smiled through it all.” He rests their temples together. “The way Dori looked at you when your mam stopped coming. The way he loves you no matter what, and Ori too. I knew if someone like Dori still believed there was something worth loving in you, that I wasn't lying to myself for a pretty face.” The way he looks at Nori still makes Nori's heart ache, especially now. “Being near you, Nori, loving you, is like holding the first spark of a forge in my hands.”

Nori clutches at Dwalin suddenly, because the words are so beautiful and loving, and Nori loves him so much. So much. “If I'm the spark, you're the forge. I couldn't live without you.”

“And without you, I'd be but cold stone.” 

“You'll make me blush,” Nori says, to break up the moment. It's too big for him. 

“I always did like you blushing,” Dwalin says, and he tips Nori's chin up for a kiss they both need to ground themselves. “If you fall, my fire will be gone, forever.” 

He wants to joke. He wants to say something that would make him feel less important. He wants Dwalin's devotion, he does, right up until he feels it for what it is. He loves Dwalin enough to fear Dwalin loves him just as much. “You'll serve Thorin, and you'll find someone just as pretty...” 

“Nori,” Dwalin insists, his grip tightening on Nori's chin and forcing him to look into Dwalin's eyes. “You are half of me, as I am half of you.”

His throat aches as he swallows. “I'm content having you be half of me. But Dwalin -”

“You are half of me. You always have been, and you always will be.” 

“Dwalin...”

And they hear the shouting at the same time. They both spring to their feet and rush forward, Nori faster than Dwalin because he swears he hears Ori screaming, and if anyone is threatening Ori, Nori will kill them quick, how dare they -

He finds Ori with his feet off the ground, in Fíli's arms, Fíli still spinning Ori around in circles when he finds the chamber the company is standing in, all together again. Ori is laughing, bright and happy and full of a relief Nori knows too well, as Fíli spins the pair of them 'round and 'round, and Nori has never liked Fíli, never, but once he sets Ori down, Nori rushes forward and embraces him as well, because Ori is _laughing_ , not crying, and his precious little brother will not fade. His heart is alive and well, and frozen for a moment before he hugs Nori back. Fíli is Ori's heart, the way Dwalin is Nori's, and Nori is so happy to see him alive and well because it means Ori is alive and well, and will remain so.

Fíli is looking at him a bit funny when Nori releases him, but it doesn't last, because Dwalin has grabbed the lad by his shoulders and knocked their heads together. “You gave us all a fright, laddie,” he rumbles, securing an arm around Fíli's neck and dragging him and Kíli both close. 

“Bofur,” Nori says, for lack of anything else to say at the sight of his friend. Bombur and Bifur have let him go, but they stay close, and Nori remembers the way he had slept on a mat by the hearth for the first few weeks after Dori came home from battle, when he was still too weak to climb the stairs to his bedroom and prone to fever from his wounds. Nori had slept on the mat even after his mother had offered to give him a night of rest

But Nori had needed to lie there, so that when the nightmares came, he could sit beside his brother and reassure himself with the steady rise and fall of Dori's chest. Even now, sometimes he wakes, and has to look for his brother, or Dwalin, just so he can lay his fears to rest. 

“I'm beginning to think you owe me some of your share, all I've been through for this,” Bofur says, patting his hat. “Nearly lost my hat! My bloody hat! And one of those lasses of Bard's threw a bucket of water on me. And I nearly got eaten by a dragon. _And_ , I never could swim very well, you know, what if I drowned? Or froze to death?” 

“You'd be quieter, for one,” Nori replies. “Did you see that treasury? What are you still belly-aching for?” 

“I seem to remember you promising me Smaug was likely dead and rotting.” 

Nori smirks. “Remember the last time you took me at my word?” 

Bofur scowls, touching his moustache as though he needs to remember it's there again. “You are my worst friend.”

“Not a hard contest,” Nori reminds him, grasping the back of Bofur's neck and knocking their temples together. “I'm the only one you've got left.” 

“Not true,” Bofur protests, cupping the back of Nori's neck as well. “Mostly not true, at least.” He lets Nori go when Ori comes over to greet him. “Oh, what's this, little mouse? Tore yourself away from your prince?” 

Ori hugs him, smiling, but his face is wet, and Nori hates to see Ori cry, so he looks away. “I'm glad you're all right, all of you,” he says. 

“Funny, so am I.” He cups Ori's face, wiping at his eyes with his thumbs. “There now, none of that, little lad. We're all quite all right, and I brought you back your sweetheart to boot. I'd say that's earned me a proper smile, wouldn't you?” Ori tries, bless his kind heart, but he's still wiping at his eyes, and Bofur laughs. “Oi, Fíli, come over here and fix this, seeing as how it's you and your fool brother's fault.” 

Kíli makes an offended noise at that, but Fíli obliges easily, pulling Ori back against his chest, his arms hooked around Ori's front. “If you don't stop that, you're liable to get me started again,” he says, low in Ori's ear, but Nori still hears. He shouldn't; Fíli never meant for him to hear. Nori would hate it if Fíli, or even Ori, overheard the quiet things he tells Dwalin when there's no one but them. “You are half of me, and I am half of you, and never shall we be cleaved.”

Old words. An old, old oath. Nori has only heard it a few times himself. Once, when he was a lad, and he was hiding on the steps and heard Dori say it to Bifur. The few times Dwalin and he had said the words.

They're both so young, far too young for such words, and again, Nori hates Fíli. It's as easy as that, because he knows those words, that oath, and he knows the pain it brings. He knows Dori, pressing cold cloths to Bifur's brow, wiping away the blood time and time again, applying salves to his stitches. He knows how his brother had wept when the healers shook their heads and said that Bifur's mind would never heal, that he could never again sing the ballads of love and adoration he had always murmured to Dori in the quiet of the evening. He knows his own heart, and how he had raged against it, that it would choose Dwalin, a noble, a _guard_ , someone he could never trust, someone he should never give a second glance to. 

He had held Ori close to him, when he was but a babe, and even after, when Ori could walk on his own just fine. Ori had always been small for a Dwarf, as had Nori. He'd needed protecting when he was small, and perhaps Nori has never been able to allow himself to see that small Ori might be, but weak, he was not. He never had been. Ori had been a fierce little fighter from the moment he came screaming into the world. Granted, that had been one of the few times he's ever screamed as a babe. Maybe the only time, Nori cannot remember. He remembers Ori being a quiet sort of baby, content to lie in his basket, and when he was older, to sit somewhere and make knots Nori could hardly manage when he was twice Ori's age, or learn his letters with chalk on the stones of the hearth. 

Still, despite his quiet and his easy emotions, there had been something as hard as diamond in Ori, from the very start. He cries and shakes and laughs and smiles and screams easier than almost anyone Nori knows, but the core of him is steadier than any, even Dori, who Nori believed was made of iron for most of his childhood. 

Fíli is wild, just as his brother is, as his mother is, as Thorin is. There are some Dwarrows who are stone, Nori thinks. And then there are those who are, but not solid, steady stone. Fíli is fire and change and too much. 

Nori is fire too, according to Dwalin. Maybe that's why he hates Fíli; he's changing Ori, forging him, and maybe Nori is afraid Ori will lose all the soft alabaster around his diamond core because of Fíli's fire. 

But the thought of Ori fading, never to be anything but a shade, instead of who he should be, is so much worse now that Nori has had a potential glimpse of it. “Go on, then,” he says, to the pair of them. “Plenty of corners to hide yourself away in.” 

His little brother looks at him, the corner of his mouth turning up in a funny sort of way. Nori cannot blame him. When has he ever been all right with Ori sneaking off with Fíli? 

_“I am half of you, and you are half of me, and never shall we be cleaved.”_

Dori is there, beside Nori again. He'd been greeting Óin, and probably Kíli. “Don't go far,” he says to the two of them. “Bifur says the stone feels steady for the most part, but neither of you have enough sense for it to be wandering about before someone else checks.” 

“We will,” Ori promises, already pulling Fíli forward. “I found the Library!” He says to Fíli, as he drags him along. 

Fíli groans, “Of course you did.” He doesn't resist though. Not in the slightest.

Nori watches them go off, crossing his arms over his chest, and trying to, for one instant, be happy about this dratted place. They're all alive. Even Bilbo, and he really didn't see the little creature living through the rain, much less what they've been through to get here. They're all alive, they're safely in Erebor, Smaug is dead and rotting in the bottom of the Lake...

“Why don't you go lie down?” He's startled by Dori, now looking at him with that face he makes whenever he's about to fuss. “You don't look too well yourself.” True to form, he even presses the back of his hand against Nori's temple, then cheek. “And you're a bit chilled. Have you eaten?” 

He shakes his head, wondering if that's why he feels so odd. “I couldn't sleep before either, not with everything. Fighting a dragon takes it out of you though, I suppose.” Dori doesn't smile, the tone not nearly light enough to warrant one of his usual groans at Nori's humour. Truth be told, he doesn't know if he could sleep now either, but maybe lying down isn't such a bad idea. They could all use a rest. 

Dwalin is still speaking with Óin, Glóin, and Balin, his hands flying as they all sign. His back is to Nori, so he has no clear view of what they're talking about, nor does he honestly have the head for it. The excitement has passed, and so has what little energy he had left. 

“I'll hole up nearby,” he says to Dori, before he tries to bundle Nori up and mother hen him. Sometimes Nori likes it when Dori does that, but he's not in the mood. “Wake me if you find any wine.”

In the hall, he presses his palm against the stone, trying to understand this grand place as he walks. He'll have all the rest of his life to get used to it, he supposes, but for now, it's most definitely odd. They've never lived anywhere like this, never in Nori's whole memory. Everything is so _big_ , far too big for him to ever have any hope of memorising the place and all her secrets.

Not that he needs to do that anymore, he guesses. He's free and clear now, and wealthy as a legend to boot. There's nowhere to run anymore, no one to run from. 

“Now, I might be mistaken, but it does look as though you're actually _thinking_ there, friend-of-mine.” 

“Fuck you,” Nori replies, ducking into the corner where Bofur has tucked himself away with a pipe already lit. Where he managed to snag a pipe and anything to smoke, Nori can only guess, but hopefully it's not someone who'll miss it too much. Hopefully not someone dead either. Bad luck to take a body's comforts. “Even your luck will run out one day, you know.” 

“But not yet,” Bofur replies, offering it to Nori. It's not what either of them would choose on their own, sweet and smoky, almost cloying. But it has the same effect, and beggars cannot be choosers. “We got ourselves out, and Bard's children as well. Hate to admit it, but we'd all be dead and floating in the Lake if it hadn't been for the She-Elf.”

“She-Elf?” 

“That redhead from Thranduil's guard. Saved Kíli's life, helped fend off the Orc scouting party, and guided the boat out. Good thing, because none of us could see through the smoke, or hear a damn word over the fires.” He sounds put-out over the confession, but not nearly as much as someone like, say, Dwalin would be. Dwalin wouldn't have done anything so foolish as refuse her aid in the situation, but he wouldn't have been pleased either. “She really did save his life. That Orc arrow he took had poison in it, turns out. That's why the lad was looking so bad. She cut it out, cleaned it, then did some...Elf thing.”

“Elf thing?” 

Bofur waggles his fingers. “You know Elves; have to be all dramatic about everything. Still, it worked. Not complaining or anything.” 

It's familiar, the way they touch so easily. Nori has never been a touchy sort of body. Oh, it was all right when Dori wanted to mollycoddle him, or when Ori wanted to hang off him, and Dwalin, Dwalin could always do as he liked. Bifur had usually kept his affection to ruffling Nori's hair or putting a hand on his shoulder. Their mother had stopped touching him a long time ago.

But Bofur and him have always been sort of kindred spirits, and Nori doesn't mind when Bofur and him are touching. 

“You could have been killed,” he says aloud. “I'm sorry, Bofur. I'm sorry for all of this.”

“Hmm?” He takes the pipe back and has a puff. “Now don't get me wrong, Nori, I've been cursing you up and down for convincing me to come along on this madness, but look, it's all worked out. We're richer than most kings, including those Elvish knobheads, and we got Erebor back.” He nudges Nori's thigh with his boot. “Your mam has to let you come home now. And you and Dwalin, you can be married and stupid over one another in front of people. Dori never has to work again, Ori can be a scribe, and with the way things are going, a prince himself one day.” 

Considering what the pair of them are probably getting up to right about now, because really, while Fíli is not a stupid lad by any means, he's a lot more interested in Ori than any dusty old tomes, Nori hopes that's the case. He supposes he hopes that's the case. “I thought I hated him. I really did. But the moment I thought he was dead, and I saw the way Ori fell apart, I...”

Bofur nudges him again, but it doesn't help. “I didn't much like Bombur's wife when I met her either. She looked like she could snap him in half with hardly a breath.” 

“She still does,” Nori says. Roshni's arms are thicker than Nori's neck.

“The point is, I didn't much fancy the thought of him running around with someone I couldn't control. Roshni was never scared of me, or even Bifur, and Bombur was arse over tea kettle for her before I could blink, and married without even telling me.” 

“That's 'cause Roshni was up the spout, and Bombur was scared her family would have his beard if he didn't do right by her real quick.” He hitches a shoulder. “And you like her well enough now.” 

“True,” Bofur concedes. He sighs through his nose, and crosses his arms over his chest, the pipe smoking in the dim light. “She had to have had the new baby around the time we were in Rivendell. They might be rolling around by now. Wonder if they're another ginger.” 

There's no telling, not with Bombur's gaggle. “They can all have their own beds now. Imagine that.” He reaches for the pipe. “That's a lot of beds. Lots of bedclothes to wash.” 

“They'll have servants.” 

Nori takes a long inhale and a longer exhale, wishing he had the peace of mind to try for a smoke ring. He's too scattered, and he doesn't like the feeling. “Servants...can you imagine?” Bofur just shrugs, so Nori passes the pipe back, and they exchange it for awhile, their legs still tangled up, the mountain cold, too cold. “I'm tired.” He settles his head against the stone, and closes his eyes. “Wake me when someone needs me.” He peeks at Bofur. “Or if Dori finds any wine he thinks is drinkable.” 

He doesn't even remember hearing the answer; he's asleep as soon as he closes his eyes again. An alcove might not be the most comfortable place he's ever slept, but it's far from the worst, and knowing his brothers are safe and well, Dwalin is near, and Bofur is right where he should be gives him the peace of mind to sleep deeply, at least for now. 

It's the last deep sleep he has for a month at least.

They spend days searching for the Arkenstone, but even Bifur cannot feel it out through the masses of treasure. Nori's not even sure they will find the blasted thing. For all they know, Smaug ate it. He's not all that clear just what dragons do with treasure. Maybe Ori knows. It's not important, not really. They just need to try and find the thing, and...Nori doesn't know. He can't sleep, and it's giving him a headache. A bad headache.

“Where's the burglar?” 

“I can look for the Arkenstone, or I can keep track of Bilbo. Pick one,” he snaps, glaring up at Thorin. He goes back to kicking at the treasure, trying to feel out the gem, but then Thorin grabs him by the shoulder and turns him around. Dori got his strength from the mother they don't share, and Nori's always relied more on being faster than everyone else, when he couldn't talk his way out of whatever trouble he'd landed in. But once he's pinned, like this, by someone of Thorin's strength, things get a bit trickier. “I'm sorry,” he tries, because sometimes that still works on Dori. 

Thorin doesn't seem to hear that last bit, but he doesn't seem to hear Nori's tone either, because all he says is, “Find him.” 

Nori swallows the lump in his throat. “All right,” he agrees, before Thorin's mood changes. “I'll find him.” 

His headache eases a bit once he's away from the bright treasure and can place his hand on the stone and feel Erebor sing to him. He listens to her, to the city, to the mines, to the mountain herself, and his headache eases. 

He seems to finds everyone else that's been missing from the search before he finds Bilbo. He spies Kíli, looking at various jars in a room that is marked for healers. Dori and Bifur are huddled away in a corner, Bifur carefully brushing out Dori's hair while Dori dozes against his chest. Balin is sitting at a dusty table in a room full of cobwebs, his pipe between his teeth but unlit. There's a lamp lit in the Library, so he checks in there, since Bilbo seems the bookish sort, but the lamp is Ori and Fíli's. Ori is reading aloud from some book, something about the Ravens that used to be kept in the rookeries, his legs thrown over Fíli's crossed ones.

Fíli glances up, spotting Nori, and hitches his chin at him. “Did you need something?” Ori looks up too, his hand pressed over the page he's on, maybe marking his place. “Does my uncle want me?” 

“No,” Nori answers, wondering if this is why he hates Fíli so much sometimes; the way he so easily controls a conversation, the way Ori allows it. It's irrational. Even he knows that. It's not as though Ori has ever been particularly talkative, or even liked being the centre of attention. But it annoys Nori, all the time, and his headache isn't helping. He turns to Ori, leaning his shoulder on the shelves. “He sent me to find Bilbo. Have you seen him?” 

“Hm,” Fíli hums, and kneads Ori's knee. “I last saw him this morning, and we haven't left here all day.” 

“Has Ori lost his voice?” Nori snaps. “Or do you just prefer him quiet?”

“Nori,” Ori hisses, “What is wrong with you?” 

He bites his lip, angry, angry for a stupid reason. This is how they've _always_ been, since they started up this nonsense. But he's angry with Fíli all over again, because everything is so loud, and there are Elves and Men outside their door, and Nori would put good money on the news of Smaug's death spreading quick. They'll have pirates and raiders from their own people soon enough. War is coming, Nori knows it, and Ori isn't even a hundred. Ori is small and sweet and he should be home in Ered Luin, not here. He should be _safe_. 

“He only came because he was following you,” Nori says to Fíli, venomous and _angry_. “You're going to lead him to his death, are you happy?”

Fíli sets Ori's legs off of him and stands, eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I'm the only one he was following?” He takes a step closer, and behind him, Ori is setting the book aside and standing up, using the shelves for leverage. “You were the first one to sign up, Nori.” 

“Your uncle made me an offer I couldn't refuse,” Nori reminds him.

Fíli opens his mouth, but Ori is the one who says, “Don't lie.” Fíli looks down at him, and Nori doesn't know whether he wants to run or fight anymore. It's the way Ori is looking at him, the harsh set of his shoulders so unlike him. “You wanted to come. You talked Bofur and Bifur into it, and Dori too. You wanted to come so Mama would have to forgive you and you could be rich and no one would say anything about you and Dwalin. No one made you do it.” He tucks an unravelling braid behind his ear. “No one made any of us.” 

“You haven't made a decision for yourself since you took up with him,” Nori spits, his head pounding. “Whatever he asks, you do, you always do -”

“But it's all right when you and Dori are telling me what to do? You're just angry that I've stopped doing everything you say -!” He's stopped by Fíli blocking him off, crowding Ori back, and before Nori can charge forward, there's an arm around his chest, pulling him back against a familiar body. 

“Whoa, now, I think we've all said more than enough, haven't we?” Bofur cautions, holding Nori tight. “No one needs to say anything else now, do they?” Nori starts to protest that notion, but Bofur slaps his hand over Nori's mouth before he can. “Let's go, Nori, _now_.”

He doesn't give Nori much choice; he drags him off out of the Library, and then keeps a strong grip on Nori's arm once they're out so Nori cannot escape. He forces Nori down a staircase and away from the others, far enough away he realises Bofur must have been exploring outside of the areas they've been living in. 

“What do you think you're doing?” Bofur demands. “Thought you'd made your peace with that?” 

“I...” He stops, clutching at his head. It's as though there's an itch under his skin, his veins twisting and pulling, and he's going absolutely mad. He needs a drink, or better, madak, though he'd promised Dwalin he was done with that. He has been done with it. He hasn't wanted it properly in an age. “Have you seen Bilbo? Thorin was looking for him.”

Bofur rubs is mouth. “Aye, he found him. Spotted them sneaking off together when I was looking for you.” He lower his voice. “Something isn't quite right, Nori. I can't quite get the make of it, but something really isn't right. Bilbo's hiding out, Thorin's stalking around like a wolf, and Bifur's been...Bifur's been bad again.” 

“How bad?” 

“Keep your distance, is all,” Bofur says. “Now you're acting like more of an arse than usual.” He grabs Nori by the elbow and forces them closer together. “Nori, you can tell me.” 

He can't. He tries, but he can't. “If the Hobbit has been found, then I'm going back to look for the damned stone.” 

“No,” Bofur says, not letting him go. “Come help me look through the armoury. We need to get ourselves kitted out, find what's still salvageable.” That doesn't sound as nice as the treasure, and Nori's torn. Everything is all twisted up inside of him, and he knows if he goes to the treasure room, he'll be able to straighten himself out.

But they need weapons, and armour, to replace what the damn Elf stole. The treasure will wait for him. 

“Alright,” he agrees. 

They're not the only ones who had the idea; Dwalin is there, picking through pieces with Glóin and Óin. They don't notice the pair of them at first, and when Nori looks at Dwalin, he sees how tired he is. How had he not noticed that before?

“Hey,” he says, coming forward and helping him, “why don't you rest?” Had Dwalin slept last night? Nori cannot remember Dwalin coming to bed down with him. Sometimes he doesn't though, staying with Balin or near Fíli and Kíli. 

Dwalin doesn't look at him. “I'm fine.” He looks over his shoulder instead, at Bofur. “Do you even know what you're looking for, toymaker?” 

“I was a miner for a spot there, don't forget,” Bofur replies cheerily enough, even though it wasn't asked very nicely.

Nori rubs Dwalin's shoulder. “Go lie down.” 

He's surprised when Dwalin turns and grabs Nori's wrist, his grip a lot tighter than Nori is used to. “Only if you come with me,” he demands. “I want you with me.” It's not affectionate, not loving, not like how it usually is. It's almost pleading, but it's also an order. 

Nori doesn't like orders. “I need to find some armour. And some proper weapons.” 

“Come with me,” Dwalin says again, firmer. 

“No,” Nori replies, yanking out of Dwalin's hold.

“Why?” Dwalin turns his head again, and he's looking at Bofur with an expression it only takes Nori a moment to place: _jealousy_. He's seen Dwalin jealous over him before, and even over Bofur, but never like this, never with this darkness in his face. “So you can be with him?” He turns to Nori, his eyes narrowed. “It's the truth, isn't it? Everyone always warned me about you, about you and him, that you were too close, that you were playing me for a fool. I never wanted to believe it, but I always knew it, I did. I knew you broke faith with me -” 

Nori cannot breathe, cannot think. 

“I am a fool, for ever thinking I had you,” Dwalin says. “Find a weapon, then. You'll need one.” 

He turns his back on Nori then, and walks away. 

Nori stands there, watching him go, and doesn't know what to do. 

“Nori,” Bofur tries, reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

“I never,” Nori says, shaking his head. “I never broke faith with him, never.” He cannot even fathom it. He's loved Dwalin for so long, he couldn't ever. “Why would he say that?”

“Because something isn't right,” Bofur says, more firmly. “I mean it, Nori, something's gone wrong here.” 

When Thorin tries to throw Bilbo from the gate, Nori realises how right Bofur is, and just how very wrong everything has gone.

The only thing left to do is what he's been doing this whole time; follow Thorin. So he does, just as they all do. 

And after, he's the one fussing over Dori for once, bringing him water, and trying to keep him comfortable. It's an odd situation, but it keeps his mind busy, and away from any thoughts he doesn't want. His headache is gone, at least. 

Bofur is sleeping in the same tent, alongside Bombur and Bifur. None of them have been injured too badly. 

Unlike some. 

He's hardly seen Ori at all. Ori's taken over any task he can from Óin concerning Fíli, and the She-Elf from before seems to be doing the same for Kíli. So that frees up the healer to care for Thorin. Supposedly, he's out of the worst of it, but Nori doesn't know for sure. He hasn't spoken to any of them, hasn't even gone near the tents for fear of seeing Dwalin. 

They haven't spoken, and Nori doesn't know what he would even say. Dwalin believes Nori is unfaithful, or did in that moment. Nori's even more upset over that now, feeling the sting of the betrayal worse every time he thinks about it. No matter how many promises Nori had made, no matter what Nori had said, Dwalin had still doubted him. Or had it been only the same madness that had been trying to twist Thorin's mind? Could it have been? Nori had been irritable and wrong himself. He'd said and thought things he didn't mean.

He's too scared to find out. 

An evening comes that Ori finally comes to their tent to see them, sitting with them and talking, telling them everything he knows.

“They set Kíli's leg properly, finally, ” Ori says to them, sitting wrapped in a fur that makes him look too young. “The healers think it'll be alright, in the end. But Tauriel's fussing over him, and he likes that, so he's not too put out.” He bites his lip. “Fíli's walking fine now. His shoulder is hurting him, but it's not as bad as they thought at first. He won't be able to hold a sword with it for awhile, though.” 

“And Thorin?” Bofur dares ask.

Ori shrugs. “Óin says he'll live, but he cannot leave his tent, or really his bed, Bilbo says. He still won't rest though. He calls in Fíli and Balin and Dáin and Bard, and even Thranduil.” He looks at his knees. “Dwalin won't rest either. He just keeps pacing around the place. His ribs aren't in good shape, so it annoys Balin.” 

“Dwalin's hurt?” Nori doesn't mean to ask, but he does.

Ori nods, but doesn't say anything else. 

He's not brave enough to talk to Ori yet either, as it turns out, and Ori doesn't really try and speak to him either. But when Ori leaves to go back to Fíli, Nori gets up and follows after him, catching up with him easily. 

“Wait,” he says, and Ori waits. “I didn't mean it. What I said? I didn't mean it. I'm sorry.”

Ori looks around and huffs, his breath a little cloud in the cold winter air, then says, “Can we just both blame it on dragon-sickness? And forget it?” There's a smile playing at the corner of his mouth, and Nori loves him, loves his sweet little brother who always forgives him. 

“Of course,” he replies, and knocks their temples together. 

“Do you want to walk with me? See them all? Fíli and Kíli are both worried about all of you. And I think they're pretty bored with just each other to talk to. I've been helping Balin and Glóin with the treaties and the ledgers, and Tauriel has to go back and forth between us and the Elves now.” 

Nori can't say no to him, even though he should. 

Fíli seems to come to the same conclusion as Nori and Ori, that is, they're all going to blame the dragon-sickness. Perhaps the lad isn't all bad. Kíli wants to know everything going on outside the tent, even how the Men of Lake-town are doing. As far as Nori knows, they're all still sheltered in the ruins of Esgaroth, but beyond that, he's unsure. 

“You bloody Elves are everywhere though,” he says to Tauriel. “And I do mean everywhere.” 

“Apologies,” she says mildly, from where she sits with Kíli's head in her lap, stroking his hair. “Perhaps if you ask, they'll kneel down for you.” 

Nori thinks he'll like her. 

They're interrupted when Dwalin comes into the tent. He stands there in the doorway, the tent flap raised and letting the cold in, long enough Tauriel starts to pointedly adjust Kíli's blankets. Dwalin looks right at Nori, then turns and walks back out, blowing in a gust of cold when he does. 

Ori nudges him. “Go,” he says, when Nori looks at him. 

So for the second time that night, Nori is chasing after someone. He doesn't have to go far; Dwalin's injuries have slowed him down. He hears Nori coming, in any case, and stops, waiting for him. 

“I never,” Nori says. “Never.” 

“Oh, Nori,” Dwalin doesn't turn, so Nori comes in front of him. “I know. I know you, I know you would never. I was so angry when I saw you with him, and I don't know why. I wanted you all to myself. I didn't even want anyone looking at you.” His leathers creak as he clenches his fists. “Nori, I'm so sorry.” 

Nori reaches up, putting his hands on Dwalin's shoulders for balance so he can rise up and kiss him without Dwalin having to bend. It's freezing out, and Dwalin's mouth is chapped, but that's alright. “You were trying to hoard me, you great idiot,” he says, not sure if he's about to laugh or cry. “All that treasure, all those weapons, and you wanted to hoard me.”

“That's not exactly a good thing,” Dwalin says, his hands on Nori's hips. 

“No,” Nori agrees, sniffing, a tremor in his chest. “But it means I'm prettier than Dori. No one tried to hoard him.”

“You mad little thing,” he replies, holding Nori in his arms, Nori's favourite place to be. “Oh, how I love you.” His breath is hot by Nori's ear, a welcome thing in the chill. “You forgive me? Truly?” Nori nods against him, not wanting to move away far enough to speak. He's still on his toes, and it's starting to ache, but he does not mind, not at all, not when everything looks as though it might turn out alright after all. “When Bofur said you would, I could hardly believe him. My fire, my spark, I love you, I do,” his whispered endearments go on, but Nori finally draws back, just a little. 

“You spoke to Bofur?” 

Dwalin looks ashamed again. “I went to make my apologies to him for what I said. He told me where you were. Told me to go to you.” 

Nori hides away against Dwalin again, sighing and falling back on his feet at last. “Bastard,” he says. “After all that, and he's still got luck to spare.”


End file.
